


Ol' Red

by LeftestMostSock



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Based on a Blake Shelton Song, F/F, F/M, For Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Set in the early 1800’s but not really a specific time, Slow Burn, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), bi reader, emphasis on h a d, gonna add more tags as I go, ish, lol, there's gonna be a lot of inaccuracies i'm warning you now, this is set in the southern us, you had a wife, you're gonna go to prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftestMostSock/pseuds/LeftestMostSock
Summary: There was a rage burning in your soul.Something deep, dark, and hot. You couldn't let this stand. You couldn't let her get away with this.It wasn't until the next morning, as you looked at the blood on your hands and the dogs surrounding the fresh graves, that you knew what you had done.





	1. Well I caught my wife with another man

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written a song fic in a while!
> 
> I don't want to spoil too much, but it's not entirely like the song-  
Ol' Red by Blake Shelton
> 
> It's got an ol underfell twist
> 
> There is going to be violence in this, lil bit of homophobia, racism against monsters, and sexism. however, when it does occur, I will be blocking it out and putting a summary down at the bottom.
> 
> :)

You had everything you ever wanted; the white picket fence, the cabin in the woods, the loving spouse.

Or so you thought.

She had a job in the bustling city of Atlanta, one where the rich plantation owners from further south would see her constantly. You had a job there too, but yours was more humble than what she did. 

You trained hunting dogs, best this side of the Mississippi. You had clients all over the east coast, bringing in their dogs or buying prize hounds from your cabin outside the city. 

You loved dogs. You seemed to have a way with them, something your father always joked about, saying that you’d steal his job one day. You had laughed back then, dogs clambering all over you, begging for even the slightest bit of attention, but now that you thought about it, he was right. Dogs just wanted to listen to you, wanted to follow your every order just to please you. You understood them like no other, and felt a connection that made it hard to give them to their new owners every time. 

Your wife though, she was a different story.

Your hounds hated her. Hated her with every fiber of their being. 

They did their best to make her life hell; biting, barking, growling when she came near you. You managed to stem it when you were around, stopping your hounds with a look. You would laugh, bring your frozen wife into your arms, and after whispering sweet things in her ear, she would giggle and kiss your cheek demurley, like the southern bell she was.

The problems with the dogs had only started a few months prior, and you thought the problem was in the litter. However, when one of the sherrif’s boys had brought one of their police dogs for a visit, the well behaved dog that you had raised along with your wife flattened her ears and pulled at her leash, snarling and lunging toward your spouse, who clutched the policeman in a way that, now that you thought back on it, was more familiar than just friends.

That was when the problems started.

After the boy had apologized profusely, dragging his hound back to where they came, you looked at your wife’s hand as you both cooked dinner, the current litter of hounds outside the door because of how they’d lunge for her ankles when they thought you weren’t looking (You always knew though, because of that weird connection you had with them). It was then that you noticed the lack of ring on her hand. You reached out and grabbed it in your own, looking at her through your lashes and asking where it was.

You had never seen her without it, ever since you two had gotten married in secret behind a barn twenty miles west. 

She had blushed a pretty pink, distracting you and making you want to kiss those roses that bloomed across her face. 

“I took it off while working in the garden, darlin”

You had nodded then, understanding, but it was later, when you were gathering some produce from said garden that you noticed her gloves. Now that you thought about it, she had never taken her ring off before when she gardened, always tittering about how she had the gloves for a reason, and why she changed out of her “city clothes” for something suitable for the earth.

When you had kissed her that night, ghosting your hands over her curves like you knew she liked, she had smiled at you, before telling you that she had a tiring day, and that she wasn’t feeling it tonight. She had left your grasp, floating towards the bedroom with only minor difficulty, as it seemed something was wrong with her hips. You didn’t sleep a wink, back to her.

Your hounds could tell something was off, and had howled til the next morn.


	2. and it cost me ninety-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got hit with inspiration, and even though this is short, another chapter is in the works. 
> 
> I just really want the pacing to be right??? idk.
> 
> there was originally going to be more, but i added it to the next chapter, mostly because I don't want to reveal too much too quickly, idk.
> 
> :)

She had wanted the secret wedding.

You hadn’t cared either way, knowing that you were well enough off that most would scoff at the union, but wouldn’t bother. However, she was adamant, her reasoning being that finding a job like the one she had would be impossible should she ever need to find another. 

So, you had agreed, and the two of you had a small wedding behind a barn, with the preacher’s silence being bought with a few fifty dollar bills. It made you feel a little uneasy, especially with the looks that he passed your way when you forced yourself to sit in the pew with your spouse, but it made her happy; and that was all that mattered.

It was all that ever mattered.

There was no honeymoon, but both of you had wanted it that way. You had stayed at the home your parents had left you; the litter of dogs getting trained during the day, while you loved your new wife by night. You both were exhausted come morning, but you were happy and satisfied.

You two lived in married bliss for a good two years, wearing your nondescript gold rings with pride. Your lover was moving up in the world; attending parties and being the social butterfly that you fell in love with. She dragged you to them occasionally, even as only she had been invited.

You were imposing, you suppose, with your money and history as well as the rumors that had flown about since you were a child, getting lost in the woods. The story that circulated was probably part of the reason for your fame in the dog business, now that you thought about it. 

It was one party that you remembered vividly where your reputation had preceded you.

It was, after all, the only one you were invited to.


	3. On a prison farm in Georgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me after creating the previous chapter: does Georgia even have forests  
Me, an idiot: *looks it up*
> 
> If it isn't obvious, this is the god-fearing south, and such, there aren't going to be many monsters actually moving down there, or, only the toughest will; given the right incentive...

It was about a year into your marriage, and you remember how excited your wife was for this party, even as she kept making the sign of the cross across her chest whenever she mentioned it. 

“Monsters,” she said with a childlike twinkle in her eye, “the devil’s kin are moving in with us God fearing folk, darling!”

You were washing the last of the dishes from breakfast, tilting your head towards her to let her know you were listening. 

“Why are we so excited about this again?” You asked teasingly, already knowing the answer.

She huffed at you, her skirts shifting when she stomped her foot. Your breeding pair of dogs had lifted their head at the sound, but with a reassuring feeling paired with a glance toward their direction, they fell back asleep.

“They’re monsters darling! Nothing like we’ve ever seen!! I heard from one of the boys at work that some of them are animals but speak like us people! Isn’t that just dandy?”

“Well I’ll be.” You dried your hands on the towel that she had bought, claiming it would match the drapes. 

“I wonder if there’s some dog monsters?” she said, tapping her chin in thought, before suddenly getting a sly look in her eye. “Maybe you’ll get along with them better than you do me.”

With those words, you had dipped your hands back into the soapy water before chasing her around, her shrieks of laughter when you hit her with water being music to your ears. Suddenly, something put an end to your fun. 

Someone had knocked on the door, and with that, your love had pushed you away from where you had been mid-tickle, smoothing down her skirts and taking a moment to make sure that no hair was out of place. You watched her do so, drying your hands on the dishrag, knowing that your fun was over. After a moment, she opened the front door with a smile, widening it when she saw who it was.

Cyrus, your milkman, was a lovely young man. His hair was a tousled blonde, eyes a blue with a green tint to them if you saw him in the right light. He said that the milkman position was temporary, as he would love to be a policeman someday. He was tall and nicely built, so it made sense. Once upon a time, your lover had mentioned that if she wasn’t with you, she would have pursued that boy the moment she saw him. 

You had laughed.


	4. Close to the Florida Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that wait!  
Life has been hectic, with the... well you know. You’re in it too.

The party was filled to the brim.

No one had wanted to come for fear of being sent straight to hell, but came anyway because of the new rare commodity.

The monsters.

Now most of them were actually located up north, as they were seemingly more understanding folk, but having been there in your youth, you knew that only a few among the many were actually accepting.

Especially of you and your wife, and others like you.

There were only two monsters that actually were down in the south, and one of which has not been seen. Rumors flew about them; some good, some bad.

As your wife left ahead of you, knowing that she would never get any socializing done in your presence, you did what you did best; listened to the many whispers of god fearing folk as they made their way to the gates of the massive plantation that used to belong to the mayor… before they fled the country the moment they heard of the barrier breaking.

According to the preacher’s wife, the monster that lived here used to be the captain of the royal guard. The lady she had been speaking to, the sheriff's daughter, had clutched her pearls. She had asked if that was anything like what her father did, before meeting your eyes across the room and quickly quieting, she and the other woman moving away from your earshot with shivers going down their spines. 

They didn’t go far enough, however, as your hearing seemed to reach further than most. Your wife attributed it to the dogs. You had to agree with her. 

Some people used to bring their prized dogs to these parties, rumored to have fought others of their species in order to have their spot with their owners. They were a sign of status, having them be well trained enough to growl at those who got too close, only to be silenced with a show of a smack to demonstrate their power over the animal. However, whenever you showed to these parties, the dogs, no matter their master, would flock to you, to sit at your sides and feet and try to bite their master’s hands when they got too close.

You mentioned that they ought to train their pets better. Perhaps you could give them a demonstration?

Your wife would show you out with flustered goodbyes, chiding you when you were out the door. It didn’t matter that business went through the roof, she didn’t speak to you for a bit, mostly because she wasn’t invited to parties during that time.

No one brought their dogs to these things anymore, unless they were new to town, or really wanted to be shown that their status was nothing to an animal.You held yourself with an aloof air, once being described as a “dapper kind of dark mystery” when your wife had to explain why you were so unapproachable. You really weren’t one for these events, especially since people had stopped bringing their dogs. People gave you a wide berth, preferring to whisper about you from a distance. You didn’t mind, you didn’t like them either. The gossip just brought business in. 

It gave you time to learn about the host anyways. The mayor’s old home had been completely redone, almost unrecognizable if you hadn’t been particularly intimate with its interior. You only knew the place because your father had helped train his dogs, and when the man had fled he’d left them. You now had them and their puppies were their favorite.

An Irish Wolfhound and a Great Dane, you remembered fondly. They were sweet dogs, trained for hunting and retrieving prey. They were getting on in years, but had managed to have a litter while in your care. You could tell that they had been trying for them for a while, their master not letting them. But now that he was gone, they were free to have their kids. You were happy for them, truly.

But why did the thought of their happiness put a jealous ache in your heart when you saw your wife?

She was surrounded by men and women alike, keeping them enraptured with tales of the city and other things, a glass of some sort of alcohol in one hand that she gestured with demurely. She was animated, and you could watch her talk about anything for hours on end. It made sense that everyone was watching her, trying to catch her eye.

But she was yours. That much was as certain as the ring on her-

It wasn’t there. 

Your eyes narrowed.

She froze, mid sip of her glass. Her eyes met yours, and you expected them to brighten, to maybe even darken in shame. 

Instead all you saw was fear. Your gaze narrowed, and outside, dogs around the town began to bark.


End file.
